


I made this for you

by Enchanted_Crown



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchanted_Crown/pseuds/Enchanted_Crown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucelyn fluff. A gift is given with the heart, and with the reminder of a promise. Set before City of Bones, not really a specific time. Drabble for Nora.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I made this for you

“Here, I made this for you.”  
Luke lets out a little smile when she gets the painting out of her bedroom. It’s not facing him, but he doesn’t need to see it to know she made it herself. “I hope you like it.”  
“I know I will” he answers, and of course there is no way that it could be a lie. “But there’s no need to, Joss. I’d be best if you sold it.”  
She’s not currently having money issues, but he knows how hard can it be with no permanent job; she’s told him all about the struggles of being a freelance painter, about how sometimes she can take Clary for ice creams and toys, but sometimes she has to sell some of the stuff she could rescue to be able to eat. Life is hard, and she could do better by selling that picture instead of giving it away like that.   
Besides, there is no reason for this present, other than the fact that she felt like doing it.  
“Nonsense. I made this for you, Luke. It can’t be sold, not even if I wanted to. It’s too personal.”  
“Jocelyn…” How personal can it be? Unless it’s a portrait of him (and he doesn’t think it’s one) it can’t be something personal. She’s so brilliant that someone would buy it, no matter how twisted it is.  
“You are taking this home and I won’t take no for an answer, Lucian.”   
Uh, oh. She’s using his full name.   
While everyone in his life had called him Lucian, since she found out that particular nickname she’d resolved to only use his full name in two situations: when she was upset or worried, or when she wanted something done. He knows better than to argue with a ‘Lucian’.  
“Should I put it in the living room or my studio?” he asks, laughing at her stubbornness.   
It turns out the painting is too personal. No one else would get it, but he does: a landscape of a farm, two figures going away in their horses. When they were kids, they’d both talked about having farms, not only with horses, but with any kind of animals, a barn, a little house and even a lake. They’d promised to each other, at least one of them would be having a farm.   
It had been one of those promises you make at six, and forget about it two days later, but apparently she remembered. And so did he.   
“Here, I made this for you” he tells her, almost a year later, handing her the keys to open the door of the farmhouse.   
And she just laughs at him.


End file.
